


Hungry Enough

by shihadchick



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Multi, Oral Sex, PWP, Rule 63, Woke Up A Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: Ryan wakes up a girl. Boone goes down on him. (And then after that, it gets complicated)
Relationships: Boone Jenner/Ryan Murray
Comments: 4
Kudos: 103
Collections: Out Of Our Blue...We Write





	Hungry Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnymcfoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymcfoo/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [bunnymcfoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymcfoo/pseuds/bunnymcfoo) in the [cbjprompts2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/cbjprompts2019) collection. 



> "I'll just write a quick pwp fill," I said. Oops. 
> 
> Many thanks to [yeswayappianway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway) for a thoughtful and super helpful beta. And many thanks to bunnymcfoo, whose prompt delighted me and then ate my brain XD The title is from xkcd, because ~reasons. 
> 
> This is a rule 63 sex swap/woke up a girl variant fic, so there's some gender stuff unavoidably going on here. Characters consider themselves and are referred to as men throughout, however. Please let me know if there's anything else I should tag for, and I'm more than happy to answer questions for more info via comments or email (this username @ gmail) if anyone wants to check something before reading. <3
> 
> Also there's definitely some, uh, porn logic going on here, but who am I to deny characters any flimsy excuse to get it on?

"I can't believe I fucking got turned into a girl because you ghosted someone or whatever," Ryan complained, staring at his face in the stupid mirror some decorator a couple years ago had convinced them they needed in their living room.

He poked at the line of his jaw again, where there was significantly less hair than there had been a day ago, the last time Boone had seen him. He'd just shaved then, and Boone kind of wondered whether the beard would have stuck around if he hadn't gone to bed clean-shaven. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't have, he couldn't really figure out where the edges of this whole situation were. Ryan had certainly woken up missing some fairly important parts of his anatomy and with a couple extra new ones, and hair would've been a whole lot less volume than, like, anything else he was missing.

Boone wondered, for a second, if conservation of mass applied there, and couldn't stop himself from looking down at Ryan's breasts, which weren't exactly big but were still immediately noticeable under the thin shirt he was wearing, his arms crossed underneath them, and comparing that to memories of—

Well, that was not buddies, he told himself, and yanked his gaze back up.

Ryan's mouth was twisted unhappily, and his eyes were on Boone, and Boone had the sinking feeling in his belly that Ryan had missed absolutely none of his complete failure to be a good person about any of this.

Ryan sighed.

Boone shaped his mouth to start saying "Sorry" but the words froze in his mouth as Ryan said "Fuck it," and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Ngh?" Boone said, trying so, so hard—oh god, he was such a bad friend—not to notice that Ryan's nipples were hard, that they were basically the same size and color as normal. That they now crowned what were solidly perky C-cups if Boone was any judge, and he'd spent enough time helping girls get their bras back on again, after, to think that maybe he was.

He'd have thought Ryan would be smaller—he worked out a lot and he wasn't as broad in the shoulders as Boone, not quite—but whatever weird shit was going on had blessed Ryan with noticeable curves and Boone cursed himself, once again, for both having a very obvious type and for how Ryan landed absolutely square in the bullseye on that target.

"You clearly wanted to see," Ryan said, his words choppy and short, a biting edge of frustration to his tone that suggested he was trying to bully himself through the uncomfortable situation on willpower alone and Jesus Christ, Boone just wanted to help, he really did. "And I already spent ten minutes in my bathroom going 'what the fuck' at this whole situation so, like, you've got two minutes, catch up already."

It was somehow very easy then to look Ryan in the eyes and stop focusing on anything else.

"Ryan," Boone said, "I don't—I'm not that much of an asshole, Jesus. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it worse. What can I do to help?"

Other than, he assumed, go back in time and stop any of this from ever happening. That ship had clearly sailed. Boone wasn't even totally sure how people fixed shit like this in the movies that he'd always assumed were just Disney cashing in and not anything that actually happened in real life.

"God, I don't know," Ryan said, slumping back down onto the couch, and god, even slouched over like that he was gorgeous and Boone's dick really needed to stop sending him entirely unhelpful observations about it.

Of course, all of that might be easier if Boone didn't privately think Ryan always looked good, even when he didn't have gorgeous tits and hourglass hips. Ryan's ass was still as round as ever, and Boone had sure had more than a handful of inappropriate thoughts about that over the years, this was just—

New and different and therefore something he was going to have to work even harder to hide his immediate reactions to.

"No, you know what?" Ryan said, sitting up straighter all of a sudden. "Fuck this. Why not make the best of it, right?"

"Um," Boone said, floundering. He could normally follow Ryan just fine, but he'd clearly made some kind of leap there and Boone wasn't sure he was following. Check that, Boone definitely wasn't following.

"I've always wondered," Ryan said, and Boone frowned.

Ryan gestured at him, crooked two fingers towards himself.

Boone blinked.

"Why the fuck not, right?" Ryan went on. "C'mon Boone, you got me into this, and I guess it might get me out of it, but even if it doesn't, well. Show me a good time."

Boone's mouth felt drier than the time they'd drunk their body-weight in cheap beer after crashing out of yet another season, and hadn't bothered to mix in even a single water. It was practically Saharan in there. Ryan could not be suggesting what Boone thought he was.

Ryan reached out to where Boone was standing frozen beside the couch, and he was still strong as ever; the fingers that curled around Boone's wrist bit in like iron, dragging him closer.

"I've heard how many girls screaming your name?" he asked, and Boone hoped it was rhetorically, because Boone definitely hadn't been keeping count and he hadn't thought Ryan had been either. He'd actually hoped Ryan had slept through most of that. "So. Show me what they're yelling about."

Ryan spread his legs, knees bony against the denim draped over them, the fabric tight over his hips, his thighs, over the gently curving span of soft flesh where his dick would normally have been. He'd left the top button of his jeans popped because, as he'd complained when he walked into the living room and scared the crap out of Boone, it fucking hurt to do them all the way up. Finding pants that fit their asses was normally bad enough; Boone had learned very quickly that adding curvy hips just made it worse.

Boone's eyes felt like they were fucking magnetized to that zipper, daring him.

It was such a bad idea and he wanted to do it so, so bad.

Ryan arched his back, and that did great things for his thighs and the little sliver of skin at his belly that Boone could already see under the waistband of his jeans, and it definitely did fun things to his breasts, and oh god, Boone was totally going to do this, wasn't he?

"I don't think this is a good idea," Boone said, with one last valiant stab at making better choices.

Ryan tugged the zipper down, and god, he wasn't wearing any underwear, and apparently whatever had gone on with his facial hair, he still had the same dark brown thatch of curls at his groin, and oh fuck, Boone should not be noticing any of that. Ryan shoved his jeans further down his thighs, let them bunch up over his calves and kicked them off, looking up at Boone with one brow raised, challenging him. Boone inhaled sharply, and that was a mistake, because holy fuck, from this close he could practically smell him, his mouth watering as he looked Ryan over, all long pale limbs and tension and desire. It wasn't just his imagination; Ryan was turned on, Ryan was _wet_ , for him, from thinking about him eating Ryan out, and Boone could only make so many good decisions in a row and he was damn well out.

"Please make me stop thinking," Ryan asked softly, and Boone had never, ever been able to say no to him, not really.

"Just—if you don't want this, tell me," Boone said, starting to move towards him anyway, but incapable of not giving him the out, of not protecting both of them by offering it. "I'll stop whenever, any time, just tell me, okay. Anything that doesn't feel good, you let me know."

"Oh, you'll hear about it," Ryan said, quirking a rueful grin at him, and he spread his legs wider, sliding down the couch a little so he was lying down, still looking up at Boone, an open invitation.

"You're like, so fucking hot," Boone told him, maybe a little too honestly, and he reached out and froze with his hands just millimetres away, afraid to cross that last boundary.

Ryan, much more practical, kneed him in the ribs.

"Stop being easily distracted by my tits and get me off already," Ryan said, reaching over to get his hand on the back of Boone's head and tugging him closer, fingers twisting near-painfully into Boone's hair. Fuck, that felt good.

"Well, if you put it that way," Boone said, and he scrambled the last couple inches closer and dove right in.

Ryan was warm, and soft, and so fucking wet that Boone almost went light-headed with how fast what had to be, like, most of his blood had fled his brain and headed right towards his dick.

Ryan smelled good, too; all hot sexy girl, tangy with a sour edge that Boone couldn't get enough of, and the noises he was making—

Boone hadn't actually heard Ryan a whole lot over the years, not when he was hooking up. And he'd wondered if that was because Ryan was quiet, or because Ryan didn't really hook up that much, or because Ryan was just more private about it. Boone couldn't imagine how that would work, really, considering he'd gotten over that habit himself back in the O. Boone had never minded having an audience, but his feelings about knowing Ryan had been his, however unwillingly...

He was more than a little conflicted about that.

And now he was also kicking himself for not listening harder any of the times he had been pretty sure Ryan was hooking up, because Ryan sounded amazing. He was breathing hard, panting around these tiny moans that went through Boone like an electro-shock straight to his dick. Boone licked harder, swallowing as his tongue slid through velvet-soft folds of skin, let his fingers part Ryan's labia and stroke gently over his clit.

Ryan jerked, kicking out and hissing "Fuck," intensely, and when Boone paused for a second—he wasn't sure, some girls—or no, that wasn't right, some _people_ didn't like too much pressure there. He wanted to make this good for Ryan, he wanted to make this so good for him but Ryan pulled his hair again, harder, and said, "Boone," in a tone that brooked no misunderstanding.

So Ryan was into it, then.

Boone could definitely work with that.

He rubbed little circles into the creases of Ryan's thighs, ran his palm up Ryan's belly and over to his hip, bracing himself better. He laid slow wet kisses up to his navel and then back down, getting deeper and hotter as he went, until he could curl his tongue around Ryan's clit and suck hard, feeling it swell against his tongue.

Ryan said "Fuck," again, voice cracking, and before Boone could even take a breath or pause, Ryan rushed on to say, "don't stop, don't—Boone, please."

Boone murmured something reassuring and just enjoyed the way Ryan squirmed under his hands and mouth. He kept going, taking long slow strokes of his tongue over Ryan's cunt, licking up and into him before moving back over to flick his tongue over his clit, loving the way he could feel tremors chasing through Ryan's body at every touch. He nearly kicked Boone in the side again at one point as his muscles spasmed, so close already, and Boone pulled back long enough to look up at him and meet his eyes.

Ryan was red, flushed and sweating, and his hair was standing on end like he'd already gotten laid, like he'd spent all morning rolling around in bed and fuck, maybe he had; Boone hadn't seen him all morning, not until Ryan had come out of his room and said, tightly, "I gotta—Boone, do you know what's happening—" and scared the ever-living shit out of him.

Ryan never asked for help, Ryan never wanted to need anyone, Ryan always wanted to be the one doing the helping. But he'd come out of his room in jeans that didn't fit right anymore, wearing a thin shirt that did nothing to hide the fact he suddenly had breasts and now Boone was thinking kind of a lot about what might have happened after Ryan had woken up and silently freaked out in private.

Who knew what he'd done then?

Maybe once he'd realized it wasn't a dream or whatever he'd done some private exploration before fronting up to Boone. Boone imagined that some more and had to adjust himself in his pants because fuck, Ryan was hot normally; Ryan with curvy hips and generous tits and soaking wet for it, touching himself—that image was just too much.

"Why did you _stop_ ," Ryan hissed, too hot for it to even try to dress it up any more than that, and god, Boone was so into him.

"A guy can't catch his breath?" Boone joked, stroking his fingertips up from Ryan's cunt to circle around his clit again, not-quite touching it on purpose. He breathed out a little heavier, made sure the warm air went right there too, and was rewarded by Ryan making a frustrated, heated sound and yanking his head back down.

"I've heard you," Ryan panted, "So many times. And you do great on the—the stupid bike, you can hold your breath forever, and I've heard—oh fuck—all those girls who can't stop making noises, just fucking—breathe through your nose and get back in there. Get me _off_ , Boone."

Boone couldn't argue with that.

He loved eating girls out, had no complaints about spending however long it took down there; rubbing his fingers and his tongue over where they were all soft and slick and needy, sucking and licking and—he pulled away just long enough to graze his teeth over Ryan's thigh, just to make him yell again—touching and biting.

Although, now that he thought about it, he'd probably been teasing Ryan for more than long enough. It wasn't like Ryan wasn't having a legitimately rough day, like he didn't deserve to be thoroughly distracted for as long as Boone could give him. And he'd asked for it, he'd said this was something Boone could do to help. And if it was something that he enjoyed doing pretty much any time, then that was great, and if it was something he enjoyed doing because it was _Ryan_? Well, Ryan didn't have to know that part.

Boone got his mouth around Ryan's clit again, worked up some good suction until Ryan was shifting restlessly underneath him, breathing harder, making tiny helpless little noises that were music to Boone's ears. Boone flicked the tip of his tongue over it and Ryan jerked; Boone did it again, and again, no longer teasing, just taking every couple of seconds off to lick up and over the hood, just to give Ryan a moment to recover before he went right back in.

Ryan was shaking nonstop by then, moving against him, and Boone could feel it coming, felt the moment Ryan got right up to the edge and his breath caught in his throat. He went absolutely still for a split-second, and Boone licked a broad stripe right over him, soft and hot and wet, and Ryan _yelled_ and came in long, slow shudders, his knees digging bruises into Boone's sides.

Boone settled back onto his heels and just watched as he came down, his hands still gentle on Ryan's thighs, petting over the soft skin there as Ryan slowly regained his ability to do, well, anything. Boone enjoyed the slow steady tinge of pink that was still spreading down his chest, a flush that was high in his cheeks and ruddy around his ears, the telltale sign of Ryan, embarrassed and/or turned on.

Boone had been aware of that little tell for… maybe longer than he quite wanted to admit.

And the thing was, Ryan still looked like Ryan.

He wasn't all that different really, other than the obvious. His face was basically the same, his eyes were the same, and okay, Boone's desire to lick him all over was possibly more socially acceptable right then and there, and he'd been enjoying everything Ryan wanted him to do—to show him how good it could feel—but none of that was just because of what Ryan looked like.

It really wasn't that Ryan suddenly had different body parts, that anyone who didn't know him would just look at him and assume he was an attractive woman.

It didn't _hurt_ , but Boone wasn't going to be jerking off remembering all of this until probably the end of time because of how good he'd tasted or how sweet the curve of his breasts was, it was because it was Ryan tugging at his hair and eagerly urging him to keep going, choking back moans. It was all Ryan, and that was the best and worst thing about it.

Or maybe the worst thing right then was that Boone was now painfully turned on—giving head always got him going—and he didn't think it was going to be particularly buddies to stick his hand down his pants and jerk off then and there. He and Ryan had never had quite that kind of a roommate or friend relationship. Jacking off in the same room as one of your boys kind of took a code of honor that you weren't actually jerking it over anything you could see, and Boone wouldn't have been able to promise that.

"Wow," Ryan said, slow and lazy, and Boone was going to be hearing _that_ in his dreams for a while, Jesus. "Okay, I—this was not overrated. Fuck."

"No shit," Boone muttered, chewing on his lip and wondering just how exactly he got out of this situation now.

It had seemed a whole lot easier when Ryan was too caught up in the moment to do more than lie there and moan, and now he was sitting up, and thinking, and Boone wasn't sure if he was going to be able to look him in the eyes without self-combusting.

"Do you think getting off is that good for girls, like, all the time?" Ryan wondered aloud, stretching out slowly, catlike satisfaction in his limbs, a heavy laziness in his eyes. He rubbed his hand over his belly and shivered, settling back into his own skin with a grin that was smugger than anything Boone had seen on Ryan's face before.

"I wouldn't know," Boone said stiffly, a little hurt. He'd thought Ryan wanted him, specifically, but whatever he'd been telling himself five minutes earlier, Boone couldn't actually say whether Ryan would've noticed if he'd been swapped out for a good sex toy. He didn't need effusive thanks, or anything like that, but he wasn't sure Ryan was even all that aware he was still in the room, and that stung. Ryan wasn't usually careless of how he spoke to people—more the opposite—and it cut more deeply than he would've expected.

Ryan had the good grace at least to look slightly ashamed of himself, and then he scrambled back into a cross-legged position, sitting up and yanking his shirt back on, tugging at the hem so that it sort of covered his thighs, his jeans a lost cause.

He kind of missed the view, but Boone had to admit it was easier to focus this way, just Ryan looking at him, like normal. Like normal if normal involved him getting Ryan off, knowing what Ryan's face looked like when he came, what he sounded like. What he tasted like.

Boone swallowed hard and shifted his weight, tried to adjust himself discreetly. Maybe he could say something to get out of there and just go—jerk off until he couldn't stand up straight, probably. And maybe then he'd be able to be a good enough friend to actually help Ryan figure out what was going on instead of just wanting to immediately fall back into bed with him.

"Hey, no—" Ryan said, reaching out to grab at his arm, his fingers tightening as Boone flinched. "I didn't mean—"

"You're fine," Boone tried to tell him, letting his eyes fix on the point of Ryan's collarbone, exposed by the way his shirt hung loose around his neck. Boone tried not to think about how nice it'd be to put his mouth there, too.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm apologizing," Ryan said, his thumb digging into the bones of Boone's wrist.

Boone's head flew up, and this time he did meet Ryan's eyes. "You shouldn't be apologizing, I'm the one taking—uh, taking advantage. Fuck, this was—"

"No," Ryan said, firmly and loudly, and his eyes were serious, fixed on Boone's. "Don't you fucking dare tell me you're sorry. I asked. I wanted it. I liked it."

"How are you not freaking out right now?" Boone asked, his eyes flickering down for just a split second, taking in Ryan's new curves again, the shape and presence of him, his present self.

Ryan laughed, tight, higher than usual. "I'm freaking out," he said. "Just, uh. Not about this. Turns out that whole endorphins thing is for real."

Boone licked his lips and swallowed, tried not to react to the fact he could still taste Ryan all over, or to the fact that apparently Ryan had been having a good enough time to at least stop actively freaking out while Boone had his mouth on him. Boone had to restrain a deeply unhelpful urge to offer to get his mouth right back to work, if only it'd smooth out the frown tight around Ryan's eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"You, ah—can I do something for you?" Ryan asked, his own eyes dipping down for a fraction of a second, but it was enough time for Boone to know his situation wasn't exactly going unnoticed.

"That's not what this was about," Boone said hurriedly, which was true enough, if not necessarily all of the truth.

Ryan just shrugged at him.

"Not exactly buds to leave you hanging," he said, and ran a hand through his hair, shoving it back off his face.

"It's fi—" Boone started to say, but Ryan was fast and sneaky and Ryan had his hand shoved inside Boone's sweats faster than Boone could even think to try and fend him off, and it turned out he wasn't so committed to self-sacrifice as to push him away.

Having Ryan's hand on his dick was at least the third greatest thing that had happened to him all week, and that was only because he'd gotten his hands and his mouth on Ryan already, which were obviously higher priorities. But Ryan's hands were soft and warm, and so confident, his thumb curling around Boone's length and dragging up.

Boone's hips jerked up sympathetically, and Ryan made a pleased sound, satisfied, and that just made Boone even harder, although he also couldn't bite back a hiss at the way Ryan's touch was ever so slightly too rough, jerking him dry like that.

"Sorry, right," Ryan said immediately, and he let go.

Boone hoped the disappointment wasn't obvious on his face—it really wouldn't have taken much more and he'd have gotten there anyway, but he didn't want it if Ryan wasn't happy to offer it—but that was short-lived anyway, because Ryan wasn't actually going anywhere.

Ryan just paused for a second, made an aborted motion as if he was going to get back to his feet, his eyes darting in the direction of his bedroom, but then he just shrugged, muttered 'fuck it' under his breath, and then shoved his hand between his legs. He shuddered visibly as he touched himself, and Boone was only just starting to get what that meant when Ryan tugged the waistband of Boone's sweats down far enough to get his dick out, and then Ryan's other hand curled around him, slick and wet now.

Boone moaned involuntarily, understanding _why_ , hardly able to believe any of this was really happening, but Ryan kept a tight grip on him, fingers sliding easily over his skin, confident and practiced and so fucking good, and Boone was pretty sure he only managed to last about a minute before his dick jerked in Ryan's hand and he came all over both of them, spilling hot and sticky.

Ryan grinned and muttered something that Boone was horribly sure involved the phrase 'atta boy', wiping his hand off on the side of Boone's shirt—fine, fair enough—and then licked his palm clean absently, and Boone's dick gave another futile twitch at that, because Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan.  
  
"We'll just pretend this never happened next time we eat on the couch," Ryan said, around a yawn that cracked his jaw, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

Boone blinked at him.

"Why do I feel like this isn't the first time you've said that?" he asked, suspicious.

Ryan gave him an angelic grin that was all teeth.

"I can't believe how much that took out of me," Ryan said, and Boone didn't make the obvious joke. "You wanna nap?"

"We could move to an actual bed," Boone said, not sure if he meant to their own beds, separately, or if he had a chance of talking his way into Ryan's.

"Yeah, okay," Ryan said, and he got to his feet slowly, tugged Boone up to follow him, and didn't let go of his wrist until he was climbing into his own bed and starfishing out onto the sheets with a tired sigh, making a wordless gesture telling Boone to lie down next to him.

Boone thought for a moment that maybe he should have stopped to at least bring the rest of his clothes with him, or maybe take his shirt off since they hadn't even gotten that far, but Ryan was stretched out comfortably beside him, and his eyelids felt heavy already. He wondered again if he should say something else, try to work out where they were at, what this all meant for them.

Instead of answering his quiet "Mmm?" Ryan just reached over, wrapped his arm around Boone's shoulders and encouraged him curl in closer, so they were lying down face to face. Boone was uncomfortably aware of his dick, soft and sticky, pressed right up against Ryan's bare thigh, but Ryan didn't seem to mind, just buried his head into the crook of Boone's shoulder and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

And that was another myth down, Boone thought, covering a yawn of his own; apparently you didn't need to have a dick to want to just pass the fuck out after getting off. And wasn't that convenient for him, too.

Boone shifted so Ryan was tucked more securely against his side, felt his warmth and solidity, and turned his head so he wasn't straining his neck on the pillow, and if he could press his lips to Ryan's hair for a brief second as well, that was just a coincidence.

Ryan's hair was soft, smelled good, like he'd showered before he'd come out of his room to confess to Boone what was going on, and Boone knew he should be feeling a lot more panicked about this situation, but right then… all he wanted to do was nap too.

* * *

"Uh, so this is… interesting," Ryan said, and Boone blinked awake, felt the outside world shiver back into focus.

"Bluhh?" he said, unable to stop himself from glancing over quickly, although he didn't exactly need to be looking down Ryan's shirt to realize he was still changed.

Not with his own hand possessively curled around the side of Ryan's breast, or when he could feel the warmth between Ryan's legs hot against his thigh, one leg tangled between his. So maybe sex wasn't enough to fix it—Boone was pretty sure that theory only worked in porn, but at least they'd given it a damn good try—or maybe it was just going to take more time.

Boone was determined not to panic noticeably until it'd been at least a day, anyway.

"I mean, it's not all bad," Ryan added, and rolled his hips a little, letting Boone rub against his thigh in return, sparking heat in his groin, tension and desire. "I get why you were so distracted," he added, and slid a hand up Boone's shirt, pinching at his nipple, cupping his breast warmly in his hand, and—

"Oh my god," Boone yelped, and he sat up fast, nearly clocking Ryan in the jaw before they managed to duck away from each other.

Boone looked at Ryan, and then down at himself, at the swell of breasts and curve of cleavage visible under his t-shirt, jammed a hand between his own legs to feel hair and skin and slick slippery wetness, and nothing remotely dick-shaped.

"Holy shit, it's contagious?" Boone asked indignantly, rhetorically, and he probably deserved it when Ryan barked out a laugh. It wasn't like Ryan didn't know first-hand just exactly what all of this felt like. Boone felt off-balance, wondered for a horrifying moment if newly acquiring tits was going to throw his center of gravity off, and decided not to test himself by standing up in a hurry any time soon just in case.

"I mean—I didn't, but we—fuck, this is _sexually transmitted_ now? What the fuck!"

"At least it's not airborne?" Ryan suggested, the corner of his mouth still turned up, like he was biting back laughter, and sure, fine, Boone deserved this, probably. At least, he deserved it a hell of a lot more than Ryan had. Especially if he was right about why it was happening, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought that he was.

"You've seen Outbreak too many times," Boone grumbled, but he also grabbed Ryan's phone off the nightstand and checked real quick to make sure there wasn't, like, a sudden outbreak of people changing sex in Columbus that afternoon or anything. Let Ryan deal with that in his search history, he thought, and carefully didn't let himself think about what level of intimacy it was to not only know someone's pin code but not even have to think hard to enter it.

"I have seen it the exact right number of times," Ryan argued, but his expression was more sympathetic as he laid a hand carefully on Boone's hip. "Uh, sorry, by the way? For assuming this was your fault. Since it kind of looks like I’m responsible for it, even if I don’t fucking know how."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it is my fault."

Ryan raised an eyebrow and waited for Boone to enlighten him.

Boone rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to put all of the clues together in a way that would make sense outside of the intense gut feeling he had that he was right.

"You remember Samantha? Cute blonde from, uh, a couple weeks back? She had breakfast with us."

"She seemed nice," Ryan said carefully, and he'd said that at the time, too, with that same neutral tone, and if it'd been mildly concerning to Boone then, it was setting off alarm bells now.

"Yeah, she was nice. She also, uh, had some interesting ink."

Ryan's silence got a little more pointed, and Boone cleared his throat and tried to get to the point.

"Like, there were a lot of very scientifically accurate herbs and also some symbols, and when I asked about them she just laughed and said she was a witch."

"Oh," Ryan said, and then as the ramifications landed. " _Oh_. And you think—that she, like, cursed you? Or something?"

"I may not have called her afterward," Boone said, and Ryan elbowed him in the ribs hard enough that Boone thought he was going to bruise. He probably deserved that one, too.

"I didn't think she wanted me to!" Boone said, in his own meager defense. "Like, I don't remember if I saved her number, and she seemed cool about it being a one-night thing when we were talking over breakfast! So I figured, cool, we both had a good time and maybe we'd run into each other again some day. I didn't think—"

"Yeah, no shit," Ryan said. "I guess you're lucky you didn't get turned into a frog or whatever, since apparently this shit is possible. What the fuck."

"Oh man, I didn't even think of that," Boone said, chagrined. Being turned into a frog would suck a lot, especially since he didn't think they survived all that long in an Ohio winter. At least the way this had turned out meant that he'd gotten to hook up with Ryan and even if all he could do for the rest of the day was, like, check himself out in the mirror, well, he'd spent worse days.

He stopped for a second and turned that thought over in his head. There was—he wasn't sure why he wasn't panicking about all of this, but as weird and disconcerting and completely messed up as it all was, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. And he really didn't think it was going to be, like, a permanent change. He couldn't say why he felt that way, but it was a strong impression, something he instinctively believed in. And since the alternative was a screaming panic and probably winding up in hospital, he'd fucking take that. And if nothing else, as embarrassing as it would be to have to confess all of this to Jarmo or whoever, if they needed to try and track Samantha down to find out how the fuck to fix all of this, well, it probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing the front office had ever had to do. Top ten, maybe. But not the strangest.

And at least—

Boone caught himself halfway through the thought, but he couldn't deny it, not even to himself, so he took a deep breath in and let himself actually accept the whole situation. Because at least if this was happening, then they were in it together.

Ryan had been incredibly patient, just lying there quietly and waiting for Boone to get through whatever initial reactions he was going to have, and god, Boone wasn't sure he deserved that kind of consideration, but it was nice to have. And they really should keep talking, he figured, and took a blind leap forward into actually doing that.

"Hey, so," Boone said, and even his voice sounded slightly different, another point just hammering home how utterly wild this was, and he had to bite back another gurgle of incredulous laughter as that hit him even more acutely. He'd woken up thinking it was any other ordinary day, and then Ryan had been changed somehow, and then he and Boone had _had sex_ and now Boone's dick was MIA and he was still feeling… remarkably good about it all.

"You're taking this very well," Ryan said after a moment.

Boone shrugged. "It's… less weird than I thought it would be?"

Ryan nodded slowly. "I—yeah, if you'd asked me yesterday I would've predicted a lot more yelling."

"I guess it helps that it doesn't… feel like it's permanent?" Boone said, trying to feel his way through the words.

"Yeah," Ryan said, sounding relieved. "That's—kind of where I was too."

"You sounded pretty freaked out when you came out to the living room," Boone pointed out, and Ryan elbowed him right in the gut this time.

"At least you already know it's something that can happen. I was fucking ambushed with it," and Ryan's mouth twisted a little, like he was holding something back, like there was something else he wanted to say.

Boone didn't think that it was the right time to push him, though; not when they had at least four other much more urgent issues.

And also, well.

He wasn't exactly the poster child for impulse control, and he was also kind of wondering—

Boone chewed on his lip for a second and wondered if he should just act like he was going to the bathroom. It wasn't like Ryan wasn't going to just guess what he was doing.

Ryan sighed gustily, and Boone curled closer to him on instinct, pressed against his side, tightening his hand on Ryan's hip.

"Go ahead," Ryan said, walking his fingertips up Boone's stomach, soft against his skin, just under the hem of his shirt. "We both know you wanna look."

Boone leaned back and squirmed around, tugging the shirt over his head, trying not to get it caught on his elbows and then feeling the fabric snag under his bust before coming free and sliding off. Ryan's breath was warm against the side of his neck, over the top of his breasts, and Boone could feel his nipples tighten reflexively. And—

Fuck, he had nice tits.

He cupped his hands around them, weighing, judging, staring down at his body like it was someone else's, like it was the object and not the operative.

"Uh, is it okay if I look too?" Ryan asked, and when Boone glanced back over, it was to see Ryan was blushing a little, but also staring pointedly over Boone's shoulder, not looking till he had permission to. Boone felt a rush of fondness for him, a heated appreciation, and—wow, yeah, he was definitely still turned on. And Ryan was _right there_.

"You can look," Boone said, hearing his voice go low, rough, husky. "You can do more than that if you want."

"Oh?" Ryan said, and he did look, his eyes a palpable weight on Boone's skin, tracing his silhouette, looking slow and quiet for a long, long time.

"Uh, if you're still up for it," Boone said in a hurry, because fuck, he'd just gotten off like…an hour ago, and he was already panting for it again. "I'm just saying, I think—no, I know, I definitely want someone to fuck me."

It was burning under his skin, he realized; the need, wanting it, and if he didn't know how long he was going to be like this then he wanted to feel everything, to make something good out of something that could've terrified him.

Ryan pretended to look around, as if anyone else was going to be there, as if Boone could mean anyone else, and Boone smacked his shoulder with an open palm and said, "Ryan," pointedly.

"Just checking," Ryan said, but it didn't take him more than a couple seconds longer to get his hands on Boone's breasts, touching him so gently.

"I'm not gonna break," Boone told him, although he wasn't entirely sure that was true. He felt suspended between two worlds, like something was going to shatter if this kept going, but when it came down to it, more than anything else, he didn't want to stop.

"Neither will I," Ryan said back, careful and serious, and then he squeaked when Boone grabbed at him and rolled, shifting them both so that Ryan was spread over top of him like a blanket, weight and warmth and pressure everywhere Boone wanted it.

Well, almost everywhere.

Boone got his hands on Ryan's chest as well, thumbing over his nipples, pinching at them and making Ryan hiss. If Ryan was touching him, then Boone was going to touch right back. Although there was one thing missing still, and it seemed stupid to not let themselves, if they were doing everything else.

"Can I kiss you?" Boone asked, looking up at Ryan, staring into his eyes for a few seconds, gauging where they were both at, before letting his gaze drop down to his mouth, to see Ryan lick his lips and swallow hard.

"Yeah," Ryan said at last, so softly Boone almost couldn't hear him.

Ryan leaned in, more cautious now than he'd been at any time since Boone had first touched him, and that meant something, it said something that Boone couldn't quite determine, but he wasn't going to figure it out then and there because he was all too distracted.

Ryan's lips were soft, his mouth ghosting over Boone's, and it was a nice kiss, it was—

It was just not all of what Boone wanted.

He got a hand behind Ryan's head and held him there, fingers threaded through his hair, rubbing against the velvety short hairs at the nape of his neck before lifting his chin up to press their lips together harder, and then Boone opened his mouth, let his tongue press carefully into Ryan's, tasting him properly.

Ryan mumbled something, and Boone tried to pull away to find out what, the words lost between them.

If Ryan wasn't okay with this then he needed to know, but the second he backed off Ryan made the same kind of grumpy sound he made when Boone made too much noise first thing in the morning, or used the rest of the milk without actually replacing it, except now any time he did either of those things it was going to cause a completely inappropriate reaction, because Ryan followed that up by grabbing Boone's face and tugging him closer, kissing him hard, all teeth and heat and need.

Boone felt himself melt underneath him, his bones going hot and liquid, and Ryan's hands were still moving, stroking down Boone's sides, curving over his breast, his hip, smoothing down the outside of his thighs.

He arched up automatically, tried to grind against Ryan, tried to get some pressure where he instinctively wanted it. Ryan seemed to know what Boone wanted, or maybe he was just drawing on some very recent experience, as he shifted around to get his hand between them, running his palm over the inside of Boone's thigh and up. Boone spread his legs and made a needy noise, greedy for it, and god, Ryan was so good. Ryan let his fingers push into Boone's pubic hair, over slick skin, cupping him, exploring and eager.

Boone squirmed at the touch, not sure how to ask for what he wanted, half-consumed by the yearning for more. Ryan seemed to have no trouble reading him, though; he leaned in to kiss Boone again, and distracted him thoroughly enough that Boone almost wasn't expecting it when Ryan's thumb found his clit, and then it was his turn to yelp, flailing under Ryan and trying to push up into more.

"You're so fucking hot," Ryan muttered, dragging his teeth along Boone's jawline, rubbing harder at his clit, and Boone felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, hitching and desperate. "Can I—?"

"Can you what," Boone gritted out, shaking and trying not to whine about how Ryan needed to focus on just one thing already. "I mean probably yes, fuck, Ryan, come on."

"I want to eat you out," Ryan confessed all in a rush, his hands still working Boone over, and god, Boone wanted his mouth as well, wanted everything. "You—fuck, you should know how it feels, and I want—I mean, you can say no, just—fuck, Boone."

"Yeah," Boone said, firmly pushing his doubts aside and to the back of his mind. He wanted this, Ryan wanted it, they weren't doing anything wrong, and god, he was going to fucking catch fire if he didn't get off soon, and spontaneous human combustion was going to be a fucking embarrassing way to end up on IR. "Yeah, you can, I want it."

It took an effort to push those words out, to give himself away so openly; to ask for it instead of being the one offering. Something about it didn't feel quite the same as when he'd had people offer him head in the past. Usually that was the quid pro quo; he'd ask to go down on a girl—or, less often, but it'd still happened on rare occasions, to blow a guy—and then they'd get him off after, and it would be even and equitable and fair, and Boone wanted to have this be the same with Ryan.

He didn't like to entertain the growing suspicion that it wasn't going to be that easy, after.

But Boone wasn't in the habit of denying himself, not when he really wanted something, and he wanted Ryan—wanted his mouth and his hands and all of his body, whatever it looked like.

Ryan didn't make him wait any longer, didn't tease or anything like that, he just slid down Boone's body, guiding himself with careful touches of his hands and light kisses that landed on his sternum, his hip, his thigh. And then he was breathing hot right over Boone's cunt and Boone bit his lip hard and tried to relax into it as Ryan stroked gently over his folds and leaned in to lick his way back up.

His mouth was as clever as his hands, and he played Boone with them together, ratcheting up the tension until Boone was shaking all over, sweating, begging helplessly for more.

"Please, Ryan, I need—" he managed to say, choking out the words, feeling the muscles in his stomach jumping with every flick of Ryan's tongue over him, so close, so close and just not enough to get him there.

"I got you," Ryan murmured, the words muffled by the press of his mouth into Boone's skin, and god, that only made it hotter.

His mouth felt like it was scorching, so hot against Boone's skin, as he licked and licked, leaning in, and Boone could feel the stretch in his quads as he tried to spread his legs wider, heels digging into Ryan's back.

Ryan pulled back for a second and looked up at Boone, his eyes huge, mouth wet, and Boone swallowed hard, telling himself no matter what happened he was never going to forget that moment, how Ryan looked and how it felt.

"You should touch yourself too," Ryan said, gravelly. "Let me see you."

Boone raised an eyebrow at him—that line was so cheesy, predictable, for fuckssake Ryan—but he couldn't deny that he liked the idea anyway.

He let go of Ryan—and see, that was the flaw in the plan, he didn't want to stop touching _Ryan_ —and ran his hands over his own skin, mapping out what was different, what felt the same.

The topography was mostly what it had been; he could feel all the muscle he was used to, a couple of scars, but maybe a little more flesh around his hips than before. He'd lost what chest hair he had, and the breasts were obviously new, pecs gone wild, and Boone cupped them again, more hesitantly this time. It still felt—weird, but good, mostly, and then as Ryan kept licking enthusiastically over his clit it felt better and better, his nipples going tight, getting more sensitive as he rubbed his palms over them.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Ryan said, squirming between Boone's legs, trying to touch himself without interrupting what he was doing with his mouth and his free hand.

It was like a feedback loop: watching Ryan down there and feeling what he was doing got Boone hot, and then watching Ryan all flushed and sweaty and turned on got him even hotter, and then Ryan got off on Boone being so turned on, and Boone wasn't sure why they hadn't been doing this forever, there was absolutely no downside.

"C'mon babe," Ryan said, alternating strokes of his tongue with careful pressure from his fingertips, sliding easily over Boone's skin, using every ounce of his highly-trained fine motor control to urge Boone to a higher pitch of arousal. "Wanna see you, so good."

Boone could feel it building, pressure between his legs, shivering up along his spine, so filled up with need that he could feel it trying to burst out of his skin, rising up behind his teeth. Ryan rubbed harder, sealed his mouth over Boone's clit and sucked hard, steady and even. It was almost like he was blowing him, Boone thought suddenly; his mouth covering his dick, tongue sweeping over his skin, and that mental image ran headfirst into the reality of how it all felt and Boone yelled—had to stuff his hand into his mouth and bite down on his palm so that all of their neighbors didn't hear him—and came.

It was good, satisfying, kind of like coming always was, but Ryan was still touching him cautiously, more gently now, his tongue drawing circles around Boone's clit, and then he pressed down a little harder and Boone kicked out, his back arching off the bed as he shook his way through a second orgasm, all the breath knocked out of him as Ryan kept touching him, soft and inexorable.

He felt wrung out after that, absolutely done, and made a soft dissuading sound before tugging at Ryan's hair in an unmistakable message. Ryan backed off immediately, sat up on his elbows and grinned at Boone, his eyes warm.

"Holy fuck," Boone said, by the time he'd mostly regained control of his body, and Ryan _beamed_ , looking smugger than he'd done after his first three point game, even. Boone wanted to put that look on his face every day, and not just because it got him such quality orgasms. "That was—fuck, get up here, I wanna touch you more. Jesus, Ryan."

Ryan scrambled up, almost falling in his desperation, landing heavily on Boone and falling into another heated kiss. Boone kissed him back desperately, got his hands into Ryan's hair again, smoothing over his shoulders, down his back, enjoying the feeling of Ryan pressed so close against him.

He kept on enjoying that for a while longer, but the need was humming in his blood; now that he'd gotten off himself he wanted to get Ryan there as well. It wasn't entirely selfless either; he'd take any opportunity he got to touch Ryan some more, and why not?

Why not, if they both wanted it.

"Okay, come on," Boone said, pulling away from the kiss and pushing Ryan back gently. He went, but looked confused, chewing on his lower lip, and fuck, Boone wanted to kiss him again.

"Are you—want to stop?" Ryan asked, looking like he was about to flee the scene if Boone wanted him too, and that was the last thing Boone wanted.

"No," Boone said, maybe a little too emphatically. "It's your turn, but you fucking wiped me out, so, uh, I thought maybe you'd wanna sit on my face?"

He raised an eyebrow hopefully, waiting for Ryan's response.

And he wasn't disappointed by it. Ryan went scarlet, inhaling sharply, and then he nodded and said, "I guess we've known each other long enough that I don't need to ask if you're sure," and then while Boone was trying to digest that one, Ryan rolled off him, before shuffling back up the bed, finally settling over Boone's mouth, half off-balance, knees tight on his shoulders.

"Pinch me if you need me to move in a hurry," Ryan said, so blithely confident that Boone just nodded, because of course, and by the time he got to wondering if that meant Ryan had done this before it was too late, because Ryan was settling over top of him and then he was burying his face in Ryan's cunt and everything narrowed down to focusing on eating Ryan out again.

He was pretty sure Ryan had his hands on top of the headboard, holding himself up so his full weight wasn't going on Boone, even though Boone wanted to tell him he could take it. And he couldn't look up to check that, not with the way Ryan was rocking down on his mouth, swaying forward as Boone licked him eagerly, getting his fill. It felt like he was getting Ryan there quicker this time, better aware of what he liked, what worked for him. Boone stretched out his jaw, swallowing hard, and kept moving, letting his lips rub over Ryan's clit and over his folds, feeling the prickle of hair against his tongue, and kind of wishing he had his beard back just to see how Ryan would get even pinker from that friction, wanting to drag his cheeks across his thighs, to watch him blush and squirm.

Ryan was making sharp huffy noises as Boone kept working him over, grinding down against his mouth, gulping in fast breaths.

"Fu—fuck," Ryan bit out, and Boone took a breather for a second, making sure he could hear him properly, and the whine of complaint that Ryan apparently couldn't bite back was just as satisfying as his moaning had been.

"Good?" Boone asked, and Ryan could clearly make him out okay, because he laughed shakily and said, "Yeah, fuck—uh, can you—I want you to put your fingers in me."

The words tumbled out in a hurry, like he wasn't sure of how to ask, like he wasn't sure of himself, and Boone took a deep breath before answering. That seemed like another line that they hadn't crossed yet, like there was something inherently _more_ about the idea of Boone fingering him.

Boone let his head fall back into the pillow a little more, giving himself a tiny bit of space from Ryan. "Of course I want to, just—uh, you want—?" he let his fingers dig into the muscle of Ryan's ass for a second, letting him draw his own conclusions about the clarification Boone wanted him to make.

"Oh you can do that, too," Ryan said, apparently supremely unbothered by the idea of Boone's fingers in his ass, and oh fuck was Boone going to be thinking about that a lot later, too. "But I meant, uh. I want you in my—vagina, god, why is that so weird to say, you've got your face right down there, and still—"

"It feels different," Boone finished, getting what Ryan was trying to say even as he wasn't sure he'd have put it any better himself. "It's not like this is, uh, a thing you deal with often, yeah."

"I wanna know what it's like," Ryan said after a second. "I mean your mouth is fucking amazing, yeah, but I want more."

"I got ya," Boone said, and he grabbed at Ryan's ass to encourage him to come closer again, licked over his clit and then down to his cunt, pushed the tip of his tongue just inside, emboldened by Ryan's words, and the shaky sigh he got from Ryan as the muscles in his thigh jumped felt like the best feedback in the world.

Boone left one hand on Ryan's thigh—partly for reassurance, partly to give himself a little leverage if he needed it—and then ran the other back over his hip, over his ass and down, teasing over the cleft between his cheeks, brushing over his perineum—Ryan shuddered again, and god, he was so wet, Boone was soaked with it—and then Boone got his thumb right over Ryan's hole, and hesitated just for a second.

"Come on," Ryan gritted out, " _Fuck me_ ," and that was all Boone needed, his thumb pushing inside easily, a second finger almost immediately following, and Ryan was so tight, so hot, throbbing around him, and Boone was pretty sure that if anyone had touched _him_ right then he'd have gone off like a rocket.

Instead, he screwed his eyes closed tighter and licked hard, thrusting his fingers gently into Ryan, giving him something to clench around, till Ryan was rocking forward into his mouth and down on his fingers, winding himself up so good.

Boone was definitely overheating, and everything around him smelled and tasted like Ryan, and it was making his head spin, making it hard to concentrate, although he'd be damned if he was going to tap out. It didn't take much longer for Ryan to get there, though; he went stock still, like Boone had shocked him into complete silence, and then shuddered hard, convulsing against Boone's mouth and around his fingers, shaking apart with a couple of sobbing breaths before he rolled sideways off Boone and collapsed face-down on the mattress.

Boone licked his lips a few times, swallowed hard, and decided that he wasn't actually done after all, shoving his hand between his own thighs with a hitching sigh. His fingers were slick from Ryan, and he was so wet too, and everything was hot and slippery and it took maybe thirty seconds for him to get himself off again as well, shaking hard against Ryan and panting loudly.

"That was so, fuck," Ryan mumbled, his mouth brushing against Boone's biceps from where he was sacked out beside him, one eye half open and watching Boone carefully. "I can't believe how hot that was."

"Same," Boone said, not very intelligently, but he'd just come his brains out like three times, and he'd gotten to have sex with Ryan _again_ , and frankly outside of the endorphins he wasn't keeping up with anything that was happening at all. It all seemed vaguely hazy, almost dreamlike, and if he was going to wake up from all of this then it was basically the hottest dream of his life and he wasn't opposed to lingering in it a while longer if he could.

"Okay, uh, I'm guess I'll just lie here for a bit first," Ryan went on, and Boone felt a surge of panic: First? Ryan wanted to leave? Ryan was done? Boone wasn't ready for that. And his tension must have communicated itself through to Ryan, because he shoved at Boone's shoulder with one hand and then lazily left it draped over Boone, curled loosely over his ribcage, and Boone definitely didn't object to being touched some more; he just inhaled deeply and enjoyed the way Ryan's fingers echoed the movement of his chest. "Chill out," Ryan said, and Boone tried to do that. "If you're up for it I wanna do—all of this again, fuck, I'm just too dead right now to move. That's all."

Boone tried, and failed, to suppress a smirk at that.

Ryan didn't miss that either; he knew Boone too well to fall for any of his shit these days.

"So smug," Ryan said, still lazily touching him, making the barest of arcs with his wrist, just enough motion to keep Boone slightly keyed up from it. "I mean, you earned it, but don't get that cocky."

"Made you beg, didn't I?" Boone pointed out, and Ryan laughed, and pinched him gently, and laughed again at the way Boone inhaled sharply. "I mean, I did. And eating a girl out isn't as easy as blowing a dude, so, like. Points for difficulty, right?"

"Oh, like you'd know," Ryan said, not missing a beat, and then Boone felt him stiffen for a second, tense all over at the realization that he'd—

That he'd maybe given something away.

And Boone's mouth opened in a soundless oh and he rolled over to look at Ryan properly, to make sure they weren't going to misunderstand each other there.

"Yeah," Boone said, speaking very carefully, because as much as they'd crossed an awful lot of lines already that day, these were words he wasn't going to be able to take back. "I do know. I'm, uh, like it's more women, but I'm basically into both, Ryan. I just don't, you know. Pick up a lot of guys."

Ryan's eyes were wide, and there was something Boone couldn't read on his face, something that wasn't quite hope or fear but had something in common with both of those.

"I thought you knew," Boone said, feeling oddly guilty about it. He really had thought Ryan did; that Ryan had been politely not mentioning anything so that they could both pretend like Boone's helpless crush on him wasn't waiting in the wings to ruin both of their lives. "I would've told you, I just—thought I had."

"I don't think deep and meaningful ramblings when we're both on painkillers really count," Ryan said. "I thought you just meant that Jason Statham was like your straight exception or whatever."

Boone just stared at him. "You know, for a smart guy, that was pretty dumb, Ry."

"Oh shut up," Ryan said. "Why wouldn't I think this was just because," he gestured at his chest, "of all of this."

Boone didn't have much of an answer for that.

"Look, I'm kind of wrecked," he said after a moment longer, the two of them just looking at each other and the atmosphere feeling… a lot more unsettled than anything else. "We can talk about this later, right?"

"Sure," Ryan said, and Boone wasn't sure how much he meant it, but he was suddenly bone-grindingly exhausted, tired and achy like he'd just done Torts' two mile torture run and then killed a full penalty afterward, and all he could really think to do was just let himself fall asleep again.

He shuffled around so that his head was on the pillow and he was mostly lying flat again, and Ryan shifted beside him, moving to lie on his stomach the way he always did when he wasn't feeling a hundred percent. The bed wasn't quite big enough for them to not brush elbows and hips as they settled, and Boone was pricklingly aware of every incidental touch. He wanted to wrap his arm around Ryan again, even if he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't deny himself that one last thing. He let his hand settle just over Ryan's lower back, fingers brushing the soft skin at his hip, and Ryan was holding himself awfully still, but he didn't protest or try to move away, so Boone figured that was fine and let himself just pass out already.

* * *

The angle of light on Boone's face when he woke up later was a solid cue that they'd slept for at least a couple hours this time, and a glaring reminder that they hadn't actually closed the curtains in Ryan's room at any point. He hoped that didn't mean anyone across the street had gotten an eyeful, but unless someone in that building had, like, a telescope, they were probably safe enough.

Boone blinked a few times, squinting in the late afternoon light, and grinned involuntarily at Ryan, whose face was right next to his, mouth open in a faintly whistling snore. Having slept on it, he was feeling a lot better about his chances of persuading Ryan that he was serious about this, regardless of the circumstances.

This had been—a super fucking weird day, but Boone didn't really regret anything. If anyone had asked him if he'd take the opportunity to sleep with Ryan, no strings attached, well, of course he would've done it, he'd take that deal any day. It was _Ryan_.

And Ryan had been gratifyingly similarly focused, which was also a pleasant surprise. And eventually they were going to have to worry about the thing where they both looked like women all of a sudden, but that was a future problem, and Boone was going to just ignore it until that point.

Especially since the way his stomach was growling suggested it was also getting close to dinner time, and Boone was exactly in the mood to maybe get off at least once more and then take Ryan out for dinner. Or—well, okay, order delivery. Boone wasn't quite sure he wanted to go out in public if they didn't have to.

Whatever he was planning, he must've moved a little bit, and Ryan stirred beside him, blinking rapidly before giving him a slow, easy smile. Boone felt warmed through and more than a little breathless, as wild as that felt considering just how long he'd known Ryan by now.

"Hey," Ryan said, a little hoarse, his voice deeper and husky with sleep.

"Hi," Boone said, and there was no point in pretending like he wanted to do anything else, so he leaned over and kissed Ryan again.

"Ugh, brush your teeth," Ryan grumbled, but he also kissed Boone back, so Boone figured it wasn't any kind of real objection. And it had to be a good sign that Ryan was still happy to fool around with him, even after they'd had sex twice. Three times? Boone wasn't sure exactly how to count it, what the limits were. They'd both gotten off more times in one afternoon than he had since he was a teenager first figuring out how his dick worked, anyway.

He leaned harder into Ryan, wrapped an arm around his back and held him closer, letting his palm run down the bumps of his spine, careful and still just a little awed that he got to do this. He wanted to touch Ryan all over, and apparently sleeping a couple hours had been enough of a hard reset for his body that he was totally up for it again, too.

"Wanna go down on you till you scream," Boone promised, with a full body visceral flashback to how good it'd already been with Ryan, how good it was with anyone who'd let him go to town like that, who'd trust him to get them there and keep it up until they could barely handle any more.

There hadn't been anyone else in his bed since Samantha, not until Ryan, and thinking about her was probably not a great move since Boone was pretty sure she was the one that'd done this to them. She couldn't say he hadn't shown her a good time, though. Even if he was shitty at calling girls after. At least with Ryan he couldn't exactly avoid him later. There was one way to get around some admittedly bad habits, he thought ruefully.

"Uh, that might, um—" Ryan said, and it was a sufficient departure from his previous enthusiasm that Boone froze in place, staring over at him in consternation. He could've sworn Ryan was into this, could feel how hard Ryan was against him, was just barely not rubbing off against Ryan's stomach by an act of supreme will and—

Oh.

Boone looked down just to check, but the messages his brain was getting from his dick were entirely accurate, in that his dick was back, and so was everything else, and also so was Ryan's.

Boone licked his lips, swallowed hard.

Looked back up at Ryan and raised an eyebrow. Why not just fucking go for it, eh?

"I mean, that's not a deal breaker," he said, and slid down Ryan's body with easy familiarity, mapping the flat planes of his chest and the faint trail of hair leading from his belly button down to his dick with his fingertips firstly and then, glancingly, his mouth.

He looked back up to see Ryan staring down at him, hope warring with caution in his eyes. Boone could definitely work with this.

"Like I said, you've got a nice dick," Boone added. "You okay with me sucking it?"

"Fuck, Boone," Ryan said, doing the best an extremely turned on person could do to sound long-suffering as he rolled his eyes at Boone, and honestly, he wasn't fooling anyone. "Have you even done this—I mean, of course, god, I guess I should find out if you're ahead of the curve here too."

"I think I'm in exactly the right place on the curve," Boone said, waggling his eyebrows, and then he swallowed Ryan down before he could try to chirp any more than that.

The strangled noise Ryan made instead was incredibly gratifying.

It had admittedly been a while since Boone had sucked dick, but it wasn't like he didn't remember how, like he hadn't been thinking about it at odd moments ever since he'd realized that he wanted to do more than just bro around with Ryan. But being there, in the moment, Ryan completely surrendering to him—it was more than he was really even able to take in. Instead, he focused on the little things—the gasping hitch in Ryan's breath that Boone already knew meant he was getting close; the way he tasted, salt-bitter at the back of Boone's mouth; the way his hands were gentle on Boone's face even as he strained up against him, his desperation not hidden in the slightest.

He kept moving, used his hands as well as his mouth, covering everything he couldn't reach all at once, all hot touches and easy fun. Boone had a rep to maintain, and while some of the equipment had changed, he knew what Ryan liked, and what Ryan needed. All he had to do was map that over into their current situation.

So Boone did just that, and Ryan shuddered and came in his mouth satisfyingly quickly. His eyes were huge, mouth hanging open as he panted, and he was sweaty and disheveled and still the best thing Boone had seen all week. All year.

"Okay, okay, fuck," Ryan said, swallowing hard, and Boone watched his throat work and tried real hard not to think about whether or not Ryan would want to touch him back. He wasn't sure what Ryan's usual type was; there was only so much you could watch someone without making it creepy and so sue him, Boone had maybe gotten distracted by hooking up himself at least half the times he'd kind of meant to try and find out who Ryan went for.

"Everything back to normal then?" Boone asked, couldn't help himself.

Ryan gave him a sideways look, and reached down to touch his face, running his fingertips lightly along Boone's jaw, thumb rubbing over his lower lip. Boone could feel it kind of buzzing, the cessation of pressure making it throb under Ryan's touch, but Ryan just swept his thumb along to the corner of his mouth, like he was thinking, slow and hypnotic; or like he was cleaning Boone up, and—okay, so probably Boone was even more of a mess than he'd already realized.

"You make this so difficult sometimes," Ryan went on, and Boone blinked. That wasn't the conversation he'd been trying to brace himself for.

"I'm sorry?"

"Come up here," Ryan said, and Boone wasn't sure if he was changing the subject or not, but at least if he crawled back up to lie down beside Ryan he wasn't going to be eye level with his dick still, a switch in perspective which made up in clarity what it lacked in novelty.

"Hey," Boone said, and waited for Ryan to go on. The ball—balls?—were basically in his court anyway. And Boone could wait it out to see exactly where he was at, he had enough patience for that much.

"Can you just—" Ryan started to say, and then shook his own head, starting over. "I can't tell if you're selflessly trying to check my dick still works—and it does just fine, thanks—or if you actually wanted, I mean—what _is_ all of this, Boone? Because two days ago you were straight and now we've had. Uh. Kind of a lot of sex? And it's fine if you're just—confused, or whatever, I don't want. I mean, I'm not going to be a dick about it, you know?"

Boone stared at him for a second, trying to tease out what Ryan was even trying to get at in all of that mess. "I'm not straight," he protested again, because that was at least an easy one.

Ryan blinked at him. "You know what I meant!"

"Yeah. Uh. Sorry? Surprise?"

"I'm—no, you know what?" Ryan sighed, and tried to start again. "I'm not sorry. About, uh, any of this."

Boone tried to play it at least mildly cool, but Ryan seemed to be sidling up towards a conclusion that seemed promising for both of them, and that felt good on a whole other level than the part where he was still naked and turned on and pressed right up against Ryan.

Although that part was also pretty great, and definitely having some distraction-related effects on him, he couldn't lie.

"I'd do it again," Boone said, and then cleared his throat, trying to be more precise about it, even though he was trying to swallow at least four different feelings that he didn't particularly feel like dealing with right at that minute. "Uh, all of it, I didn't just—This wasn't because you were there and hot and had, like, great tits and all. Which I'm also not complaining about, since apparently that was the kick in the ass you needed to actually hit on me. But even if it's dicks out twenty-four seven from here out, I'm, you know. Still on board for that."

Boone chewed on his lip and waited for Ryan to say something to all of that. He'd kind of just spilled everything out there, and waiting to see how Ryan took it was fucking agonizing.

"Dicks out," Ryan muttered under his breath, and Boone kicked him in the shin reflexively. Ryan didn't get to make fun, not when Boone was, was making himself all vulnerable and shit, and coincidentally also the only person lying in the bed who hadn't gotten anyone to touch his dick in the last five minutes and he was kind of dying there, okay?

"Ryan," Boone complained, and Ryan patted his hip, only about forty percent patronizingly, except then that turned into him groping Boone's ass just a little, and honestly, Boone was more than happy to have this conversation after Ryan had gotten him off.

"No, you're right, sorry," Ryan said, and _stopped_ , and Boone turned his face away and groaned into the pillow, halfway to yelling about it but at least smart enough to realize that was probably not going to win them any favors from the apartment next door. They already put up with a lot of yelling whenever he could talk Ryan into playing FIFA with him.

"Uh, this is kind of—mixed messages?" Ryan said, frowning at him, little creases in his forehead as he looked at Boone, chewing on his lip and looking uncertain again. Which was the exact opposite of what Boone wanted.

"Look, can you—either fuck me or talk it all through first, I just can't do both," Boone said, after a moment of silently screaming about it in his head.

"Oh, you should've led with that," Ryan said infuriatingly, but his hand was right on Boone's dick again a second later, so Boone supposed he forgave him.

Ryan let his palm curve over the head of Boone's dick, smearing precome all over himself and Boone, and Boone groaned into Ryan's shoulder this time as Ryan started jacking him off.

It wasn't quite the same as last time of course—there were no soft breasts for Boone to bury his face between, and Ryan's hand wasn't as slick, and thinking about _that_ had some inevitable effects on top of how good Ryan's hand felt, which was a lot, and Ryan made a deeply satisfied sound as Boone's dick leaked a little more, got them both wetter.

Ryan was just as confident as last time though; his hands moving steadily, lips pressed against Boone's forehead. He paused the steady stroke to run his hand over Boone's balls carefully, dragging his fingertips over the sensitive skin behind them and making Boone jerk against him, trying to buck forward into the touch, to spread his legs more so Ryan could keep doing that forever.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Ryan said; quiet and steady and right there, like Boone always depended on him to be, and somehow that warm familiarity was what pushed him over the edge, coming in long wracking shudders, getting them both even messier all over again.

He went limp against Ryan, sagging back into the mattress, newly aware that he'd probably done something terrible to his neck by falling asleep all tangled up with Ryan, and finding it hard to actually care. It was worth it, to be lying there warm and satisfied, to think about eventually getting up to shower and find some kind of dinner, but to know they didn't have anywhere to be or anything to do until then. It was peaceful, in a way that was unfamiliar and more inviting than he would ever have guessed it would be.

"You wanna talk now?" Ryan asked, quite a bit later, after they'd laid there long enough for their breathing to sync up and their heart rates to slow down again.

Boone took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, and found that he did.

"I mean, I think my cards are on the table," he said. "I—I wanted this, and I don't want to stop if you don't, you know?"

Ryan nodded slowly, still completely relaxed beside him, not carrying even that low-grade tension that Boone wasn't sure he'd seen him without in years, giving him a grin that opened slowly, brilliantly. "I want it too," he said. "Like, I thought—I thought you were just politely ignoring how fucking obvious I was about you, and I never thought—I mean, I don't know if I'd have believed you even if you did tell me you wanted to anyway. Not without, uh, all of this."

"Hey, you don't know," Boone protested. "I've very persuasive!"

Ryan's gaze dropped to his mouth and he swallowed audibly, caught, as Boone smirked. "You really are," he admitted. "Fuck, I can't believe it took getting a fucking magical sex change to figure all of this out. What happened to getting drunk and saying dumb stuff like normal people?"

"You're right, I can't believe responsible drinking has backfired," Boone said, deadpan, and didn't budge an inch when Ryan shoved him.

"For real though," Ryan went on. "This was—really good, and if you ever see that girl—Samantha?—again, I guess no harm done after all."

"You know," Boone said thoughtfully, "I didn't call her, sure, but she didn't call me either, I thought she was just, like, super chill about it being a one night thing. I'm glad it worked out okay somehow anyway, I guess."

"I mean, maybe it wouldn't have if you weren't so good at giving head," Ryan said. "I can't believe that's what actually got me to make a move on you."

Boone blinked at him. "I think I'm flattered and a little insulted at the same time?"

Ryan grinned. "I mean, I guess Samantha and I have knowing that in common, huh? Maybe I should send her flowers and a thank you card, come to think of it."

Boone tapped his fingers over Ryan's ribs, eyes half open as he tried to remember. "She said something about you, actually. When she left. I didn't understand it then, but it was like, there was more going on under the surface than you wanted to say."

Ryan looked away for a second, and at first Boone thought he was jealous or something, but then realized he was embarrassed. "I don't think I was hiding the crush from anyone but you," he said. "So she probably figured it out."

And then she'd gone to all the effort of casting some kind of spell to—

Boone stopped, thinking it through logically for the first time.

She'd gone to the effort of casting some kind of spell that swapped Ryan's body parts out first of all, not Boone's, and considering that had been the impetus to even get them to actually talk to each other about their feelings, in a lot of ways she'd done them both an enormous favor.

Like, also a sketchy move in terms of their bodily autonomy and all, sure, but if Ryan had just hidden in his room for a few hours then Boone would never have known before they were both back to normal again.

Ryan seemed to have been doing the same mental calculations.

"No, you know what, forget flowers. You should send her an edible arrangement."

Boone stared at him for a second, and then the corner of Ryan's mouth twitched, and Boone felt his own do the same, and then all they could do was laugh; helpless and appreciative, tangled up together, finally on the same page.

-the end-


End file.
